Open Skies

Tchau, Pai!

Late in the afternoon on Monday, I noticed I had a voice mail from my dad.

'Katie, this is dad. I'm at the airport. I love you. Goodbye!'

What?

Here's what I knew about my dad leaving for Brazil:  'It might be the 18th, but we're not sure.'

To go from that to a goodbye voice mail was quite a jump. I called my mom and she said, 'Yeah, to tell you the truth, we were a little surprised that you didn't call.'

To which I said, 'I told you I wanted to go the airport. I am a little surprised that you didn't call to tell me what day it was for sure.'

'That's true,' she replied, 'I guess we didn't know the date was firm.'

And so, both of us are at fault, and my dad doesn't care at all. He's not really a grudge-holder. But... is now safely in Sao Paulo for a few days, before being assigned to his home for 6 months to a year.

Well 'safe' is probably not accurate if he's in Sao Paulo. According to the retired consultant who sits next to me at work-- who I mostly love because he's hardly ever here, and when he is here, he is on the phone talking about his investments and/or rental properties-- I should be worried. And, according to my friend Lindsay, whose dad, Bruce, is the one who got my dad the job down there, I should be worried. I think she said she continually keeps up on news stories of Americans being kidnapped down there. Me, I'm less of the worrying type. He will be fine.

This is the guy who stopped by my office a week or two ago for free PGA Tour passes. I had researched the parking/shuttle situation and told him that some genius had designated that all visitors park at the Pontiac Silverdome and then take a shuttle to the golf course in Bloomfield Hills. He said, 'oh, okay,' and then left, probably with no intention of following those directions.

Instead, he and his old geezer buddy pulled into the first parking lot they saw with any ties to the PGA. This was a UAW private party, and he and his buddy got a free lunch and rode their shuttle to the course, laughing and having a good time. Once at the course, dad and his buddy dipped into the Lear tent as well and were fed again and given a bunch of freebies.

So... could he get kidnapped? I suppose. But, I bet he would find a way out of it, and probably make some friends along the way. Amazing...

--

As for the title, thanks to Google for making a translation of 'Goodbye, Dad!' to Brazilian Portuguese so easy.

Mentoring Matters

I recently attended a going-away party for my friend Jennifer from college. She's heading into a 2-year Salvation Army training program to become an 'officer.' When I met Jennifer, I might have to say she was one of my first close friends from the inner city with a totally different background from me. (The 1st was my best friend in Jr High, a fiery latino girl who would beat up all the people I would tick off with my big mouth).

What struck me at Jennifer's party was seeing all of the people who had been in Jennifer's life get up, take the microphone and give words of encouragement. It turns out that she had been placed with a mentor between 8th-9th grade, which according to the mentor are pivotal years where many girls decide if they will stay in school or not. It brought tears to my eyes to see this mentor standing before her 25-year-old mentee and seeing that she had made it out of the cycle and had lived a life for God all these years.

It was more pointed when you consider that Jennifer was feeding her sister's youngest baby at the time and had mashed potatoes all over her crisp white button-down Salvation Army uniform, while her adult siblings were having a good time on the other side of the room. Her brother had 3 kids in the last 2 years since I'd seen him as well, and all of the siblings' main comments in the microphone were about losing their babysitter. One sister, though, said this: 'Jennifer's my younger sister, but I look up to her.I'm glad one of mama's kids turned out right.'

That is why I will stick to mentoring, even with a teenager that's hard to connect with.

Last night I found out the scoop on Shatavia, who is 14, and the sibling of the kids I tutor. She's been fighting with her mom and staying with a couple of different relatives, again. This time, she's with an aunt who has a nicer house in a safer neighborhood. I've met this aunt before and was pleasantly surprised by the environment in her house-- it seemed safe, quiet, and ordered.

In taking Shatavia and her two cousins to the mall yesterday, I saw that I wasn't the only one who couldn't get Shatavia to communicate properly!

'Are you going to tell her?' her cousin asked, poking Shatavia.

The story is that her aunt is going to get custody of her (it's TBD if that means an official court date, or what) and she is going to go to a charter school in Oak Park in the fall. The two cousins, who were very respectful and had it together, had gone there. One is going to be a senior this year, and the other just graduated and is going to Eastern in a few weeks.

Shatavia misses her mom, but knows that she will be able to focus on her education and also be able to just 'be a teenager' at her aunt's-- instead of being mom to her 3 younger siblings at home. She won't have to move around as much or deal with the inconsistency of the younger siblings' dad, D, coming in and out of the picture. (UPDATE: As of Tuesday, he's out of jail and back!)

I'm excited for new beginnings and will still continue to do all I can to live up to the title of 'mentor' in someone's life.

Hip-Hop Horrified

Of all days to not have my iPod at the gym, this had to be it.

The gym I belong to has a male-female split, so that the lone locker room and pool/sauna area can be occupied by one gender.  On M-W-F it's females at Location A, and T-Th-Sa it's females at Location B. I have to say that Location B is not my favorite, and last night's experience only added fuel to the fire.

I didn't have my iPod with its energetic playlists of early 90's dance music with me, but I did have the headphones. Unfortunately, the elliptical-with-TV that I selected was not working, and would shut off a few seconds after turning on. Also, the volume had one setting--- LOUD.

Normally, I don't need the TV and its selective reception of only 1) HGTV and 2) BET, but today I was looking for an escape. From what? I'm glad you asked.

The girls who work at Location B were obviously born in a tree. Instead of playing high energy CDs or playlists over the loudspeaker throughout the club, today they were playing the radio station 95.x. (Hopefully this won't come up in a google search if I do that).

This station is one that appeals to a more urban audience, and often plays songs that are of interest to the kids I pick up. I still have to filter, but many of the R&B or hip hop songs are perfectly fine and I will let the kids jam to them in my car. The problem is that in the evening, they have a disgusting DJ on the station. I've caught him saying such things as, 'If you're hot and pregnant, give us a call,' and various references to cheating, or threesomes, or whatever-- just not funny and not appropriate.

Last night, he had two winners on. One conversation topic for the callers was 'Who is the biggest slut in Metro Detroit?' and the other was 'If you're hot and in rehab, give me a call.'

Unbelievable.

Why would anyone think that has entertainment value?

Another problem I ran into, and maybe I buried my head in the sand on this one too much, but... I finally saw the video to one of the songs I thought was harmless. (Look at :55-1:00 in the video) It was a Chris Brown song. Now, Chris Brown is like the Hanson of hip-hop/R&B. He's considered pretty mainstream and tame. But in his video-- a live performance of one of his songs--- his dancing looked like sex.

And here I was with a 5, 6, 9 and 10 year old in my living room, wanting to show me the video of a song they liked.

And I see Shania, the 5 year old, with her shirt rolled up dancing in front of the TV! (Don't worry, I said something. Also, this wasn't the 1st time).

If this is what they're seeing and imitating, no wonder there are so many problems in the urban culture. Not just urban, of course, there are plenty of problems with the suburban culture too, but here I'm talking about way-too-early sexual activity and this general problem of knowing too much and seeing too much. Don't get me started on the stories they tell me about crackheads they see on their street.

I guess it's back to Jesus music and the approved, filtered list of R&B/hip-hop on my iPod. They're getting enough of that other stuff when they're not with me. I can't in good conscience add to it when they are.

God help us all, seriously.

Seat all to myself...

"Single Riders? Any SINGLE RIDERS?!"

The Lake is Not So Bad

...I survived the initial trip to my sister and brother in law's new place, and then returned for the 4th of July fiesta. I can do this.

With my nephew, Hercules, in town.

All of the pictures taken on the Breakwall are squinty and awkward, but I love my sister, so here you go!

Wedding Bells

We had a great time celebrating with my cousin Kristy and Ben.

Saying their vows. Doesn't my cousin Jason (left) look more excited than they do? Maybe he is making a face at the baby...

Awwww... and yes, I had my eye on that wedding cake.

The cousins took the liberty of extending the 'smash the cake in each other's face' tradition to the other guests, including me. Wasn't that sweet of them?

The Trapps in full effect.

I was mistaken for my mother twice by relatives that hadn't seen either of us in 20 years. So, that must mean that both 1) they aren't too good at math; and 2) I look a bit older than 26. Right?!

"Donna?"
"No, I'm her daughter."
"Oh, I thought you were Donna."

"I had to come over here because I couldn't figure out which one of you was Donna."

It could be much worse. ;-)

Family Reunion

Establishing what is now going to be a summer tradition, like it or not (kidding, mom! kidding), the entire Polish side of my family gathered up north over the 4th of July.

You can imagine what my favorite part was.

It was brushing my teeth with the lake water. Obviously. The nature girl that I am.

 
Following close behind that baby in terms of pure enjoyment was the not one, but two birthday cakes for Uncle Tom.

Keeping with the abundant food theme, Dad cooked the burgers, and weighing in at just under a pound a piece, they were just right for our healthy appetites.

This is right before Aunt Barbara scared me into becoming a faithful sunscreen-wearing freak with her tales of basal cell carcinoma. OK, OK...

"This is awesome! Let's make it a tradition!!!"

Backyardigans

Now, to take a tour of another aspect of the 'new' house...

Table and chairs: $15
Materials for re-upholstering: $45 (includes a new staple gun, fabric and scotchguard)
Lights to string inside: I don't know, Jamie bought them... so: FREE

And, to make you really proud. You probably know how I try to avoid putting things together, in the same way that I avoid all things that do not come easy to me. But... I really wanted a glider...and...

it wasn't so bad. Now I can laugh along with everyone who has ever put something together and lost a nut or bolt out of the box. Haha, those crazy bolts. 10 minutes later it emerged, just when I was about to give up.

Can't wait to have some backyard fun this summer!

Somebody's daughter

The next few months are going to prove to be the summer of family. Some of that is incidental (cousin getting married, my family finally conning me into spending time at my sister's cottage by moving Father's Day up there), and some of it is due to my mom getting sick. Since she was hospitalized, she has a new interest in connecting with the family. It could be worse, I guess. She could force me on a pilgramage back to Poland, the motherland. It could also come in the form of introducing me to the polka.

That hasn't come up yet.

My 70-year old dad also has a job offer in Brazil for 6-12 months. His sweet spot of expertise is really with improving the performance of stamping plants that are like 20 years behind. So, enter Brazil. (Did you know that Brazil has the 10th strongest economy in the world these days? I had no idea.)

I mention all this because seeing extended family can be rough. So can spending extended time with yor more immediate family. For some reason, we are quickest to judge and be aggravated with those with whom we share blood.

The other night, a new middle-aged coupe visited my Bible Study. I'd call it my house church, but I would be the only one calling it that, and it would only be for my benefit, so we'll just call it the Bible Study. They expressed over and over how broken their heart is about their daughter who has run away from God and has been hurt by the church.

Hearing them express this, my thought was, this woman is not going to set foot in church. What she needs is to come in contact with someone who has compassion on her and can show Jesus to her in the workplace, or in her kids' day care, or in the neighborhood.

Maybe one day I might meet her.

It adds a layer to know that the people you interact witon a daily basis, whose sinful behavior may frustrate you, might be the same people that are causing their family members to have sleepless nights.  To see these parents truly grieve that their child was in rebellion to God softened my heart a little.

Sometimes I don't care enough about my family members who are far from God. I focus more on their baggage, and their stupid mistakes, and the fact that they are hard to deal with.

Hopefully there is someone out there who knows nothing of those things that can engage in friendship with them and lead them to the true living water. Ideally, I guess I should play a role in that. But while God is still working on me and my selfishness, maybe someone else will obey in the meantime.

Traveling Through History

Memorial Weekend was a perfect time to take the kids to Henry Ford Museum.

(Shania in the real Rosa Parks bus! They thought that was so cool, and were able to sit in Rosa's actual seat.)

 
(Shakira-- the 5th sibling, who lives with her dad and grandma in the suburbs-- and Eli'sha)

If you've met them, or heard any stories, you might think that they would not be the ideal candidates for a museum trip. Yes, they can be loud and kind of crazy. But, they really are interested in seeing-- and most importantly, touching--everything. They love these kinds of trips!

Their only complaint was that you couldn't ride any of the cars or trains. They did spot the Greenfield Village train on the way out though...